Run Away to Us
by TheEndlessBeat
Summary: Matthew Williams has had enough, so he runs away to New York City. What happens in this tale of epic proportions? I cannot say, but I will tell you that it starts with a Polish cross-dresser. No pairings as of yet; I am open to suggestions!


**So here is my third attempt at a fanfic. Hopefully it will turn out alright... I don't have a beta (as of now) and I edit everything myself. I'm not the best at editing.**

**This is going to be a multi-chapter fic (Canada centric), because I have an idea for a plot that doesn't suck and make me want to cry at my own lack of imagination!**

**I don't have any 'lovey romance pairings' planned as of yet, so leave ones you'd like to see in the comments. Two exception though; SuFin ( I can't **_**not **_**put it in this story because 1) my OTP, and 2) ADORABLENESS!), and no gender-bendings. I hate gender-bends…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia. If I did, sweet little Finland would be everyone's personal… cutey? I don't want to say 'bitch' because Finny is too good for that~~ **

**I may have slight psychological problems, I apologize in advance. (I also have a problem with commas. I never know when they're needed or not… sorry for that…)**

**Read and review, and please leave comments containing constructive criticism. It's very much appreciated! Rated T for language and minor violence.**

Matthew Williams couldn't take it anymore.

He could no longer handle his father's drunken rampages that left the half-starved seventeen year old bruised and bleeding, barely able to pick up the pieces of his own broken spirit. One too many nights he was blamed for his mother walking out, taking his Papa's sobriety with her. Matthew had to escape from it all.

So, late one hot August night, Matthew packed a worn backpack with the little clothing and possessions he owned, including the tattered stuffed bear he'd had since he was a child (don't make fun, it's a security blanket of sorts). He crept as silently as possible into his father's room—though he really didn't need to, seeing as the bastard was passed out drunk, surrounded by empty bottles—and pulled a black leather wallet out of a pair of dirty jeans that laid on the floor. He stuffed what little cash it contained into the pocket of his worn, red 'Canadian Pride' sweatshirt. Without a second glace back he was out of the room, out of the house, and out of his old life.

Stepping off of the bus and into the bustling streets of New York City felt like rebirth to Mathew. Sure he only had four changes of cloths, a fake polar bear whose name he could never remember, thirteen dollars and twenty-nine cents, a bruised ribcage… but those things didn't matter to him at the moment. He was, in a word, free. He could start over and build himself a new life. He planned on getting a job and saving his paychecks to buy an apartment when he turned eighteen in four months. Until then Matthew was sure he would become well acquainted with park benches.

But finding a job was a task for another day. At the moment Matthew's stomach twisted painfully, he needed pancakes. So the blonde turned on his heel and walked to the nearest diner. The food was a bit too expensive than he would have liked for it to be. No longer ailed by the pangs of hunger, he left and began walking with no destination in mind.

With his head lowered, he didn't stop until the street lights cut on. Looking around, he realized that walking purposely wasn't the best idea, seeing as he was now in a particularly shady looking part of the city. Cursing silently, he ran his pale fingers through greasy blonde hair and looked around the empty streets. In the back of his mind he wondered why the streets were so bare of people, wasn't New York supposed to be teeming with life? He cut down a side alley, which wasn't the best idea seeing as it was precisely the kind of alley movies taught you to avoid; dark, trash filled, and with the unpleasant smell of… something… lingering in the air.

Matthew was by no means a frail, helpless soul even with the abuse he went through, if anything he was stronger because of it. In fact, if he had grown up in a good home with daily meals, he could have been well-built. He was also quite tall, with a layer of lean muscles thanks to the occasional hockey game he would partake (and dominate) in. The only real offset to his masculine appearance was his too-large, doe-like, violet eyes, which gave him a falsely 'innocent' appearance.

As he neared the other side, someone stepped in front of him and blocked his path. The stranger—a woman thankfully, not some rapist (at least he hoped, but you never know in NYC)—was shorter than Matthew, with blonde hair and bright green eyes. She wore a white blouse and an extremely short, extremely bright, pink skirt. Despite her neat and well groomed appearence appearance, Matthew could tell that she had seen and been through a lot of things.

Flushing slightly Matthew blurted out, "I-I'm sorry, but I don't want your services." He began looking everywhere except the supposed prostitute.

"What! You think I'm, like, some whore!" She—no… HE—blurted angrily in a shrill, yet still masculine, voice.

Matthew could only gape. Not only had he assumed this guy was a prostitute, but a female as well. Sure he had heard of cross-dressers before, but he had never met one, and he had no idea what he was supposed to do or say now.

The stranger seemed amused at the dumbfounded look on his face, "I should be, like, totally offended, but I'll let you off the hook this time only because your new around here. I'm Felix."

"M-matthew Williams." He cursed his stutter, feeling like an idiot. "How did you know I'm not from here?"

"Because I have this like, built in radar-thingy that just goes off whenever I see a runaway. I also have a gaydar, if you'd like to know." Felix gave him a knowing look.

Once again, Matthew was stunned into silence. How did this guy know he had run away? And what was he implying?!

"You seem confused. I know this stuff because I too ran away, and can just tell. And I'm gay too, if you couldn't tell." Matthew stared quizzically.

"You should, like, come with me if want to live. Heh, I've always wanted to say that." Felix spun on his high heels and began strutting, stopping only when he realized Matthew wasn't following. "Are you coming or what?"

Realizing that he didn't really have choice, it was either wander around alone or follow a strange dude in a skirt, Matthew trailed after him. At least he could count on it being interesting.

Of all the places Matthew expected to end up when he got to New York, this was not one of them. A five-story hotel, that had definitely seen better days, loomed above him.

"Like, welcome, Matthew, to the Hideaway!" Felix exclaim throwing his arms into the air.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you bring me here?" Matthew said timidly.

Felix giggled, "The Hideaway is for people like you and I!"

"What exactly do you mean by that?" Felix answered only with a sly grin, grabbing his arm and pulling the Canadian up the steps and through the front doors.

To Matthew's surprise, the interior was in much better shape than the outside. It was also teeming with people. So far the only ones he could see were teenagers like himself, and a really young looking blonde girl sitting over to the side with an older, much more intimidating, teen beside her. So far no one had paid them a second glance, as if this Felix guy pulling a stranger by the arm was something that happened every day.

"I'm going to take you to Ludwig, he's like our defacto-leader with his seriousness and no-nonsense attitude. He'll know what to do with you." Matthew tried not to feel disconcerted by that last comment.

After being jerked this way and that, past broken elevators and up four flights of stairs, the two blondes stopped outside of a hotel room with a crooked, blank plaque nailed onto the outside. Not bothering to knock, Felix slammed the door open, causing Mathew to flinch. Once inside the room he found, instead of your average two beds and night stand, what looked to be an office. A scratched wooden desk sat opposite to them. Other than the desk the room was empty.

Well, empty except for the immensely intimidating man sitting at the desk with slicked back platinum blonde hair, and icy blue eyes. Matthew assumed this was Ludwig.

"Felix, what is the meaning of this? You know not to bother me when I am working." Ludwig said with a thick (was that German?) accent. His gaze then fell upon Matthew, and he sat up a bit straighter. " And who is this?"

"Okay, so I went out for some late night shopping, when I, like, ran up on this guy Matthew. I could tell with my inner radar that he was a runaway, so I confronted him, but get this; he thought I was a hooker! Can you believe it? I mean do I really look like one of those tramps? I'm a lot, like, classier, right! Well anyways, like I said, I found him and brought him here. Can we keep him?" Felix said in one breath. Matthew wouldn't have been surprised if he had fainted.

Ludwig said nothing at first, just flicked his eyes between Felix and Matthew. After a moment he sighed, " Ja, I don't see a problem with that. Take him to Arthur first off. He knows with rooms are empty." And with that he went back to whatever he had been working on beforehand.

Felix whooped happily and once again grabbed Matthew, dragging him from the room. They went down to the first floor and entered what seemed to be the kitchen. Matthew heard before he saw the other inhabitants in the room. A short, blonde, green eyed boy with ridiculously large eyebrows was yelling at two other and much taller teenagers, both with blonde hair and blue eyes, but that's where the similarities ended. One had shoulder length blonde hair, and would have had a handsome face if it wasn't for his expression, which slightly unnerved Matthew. The other look frighteningly like himself, but was much more filled out with tanner skin, lighter eyes, and a too-big grin on his face.

"You damn bloody frog, you have no bloody right to insult my cooking!" the short Englishman bit. Matthew wasn't even sure if one could say 'bloody' that many times in one sentence. " It's a lot better than whatever the hell you make. And you, Alfred!" he quipped when the blonde with shorter hair chuckled, "Your even worse than that slug-sucker! Everything you make practically drips with grease, I can literally feel my arteries clogging just looking at it!" That seemed to strike a chord in Alfred, but before he could retort he noticed Felix pulling a reluctant Matthew behind him.

"Hiyah! The name's Alfred F. Jones. I am the hero 'round these parts." Alfred practically shouted as he grabbed Matthew's hand, shaking it enthusiastically.

Alfred was then shoved out of the way when the other blonde push him away, and grabbed the Canadian's hand, "Onhonhon~ Why hello there _mon cher_! My name is Francis Bonnefoy , and you are?" he questioned, kissing the back of Matthew's hand.

Startled by the action, he pulled his hand away and stuttered, "_J-je suis_ _Matthew_."

Francis looked overjoyed when he heard his native language. "Oh! _Je suis amoureux!_ You speak the language of love! I am already enamored. Looks like you have some competition, Arthur." He then smirked at the short blonde who was standing off to the side, watching the interactions with little interest.

"You wish." Arthur spat before walking up to Matthew, punching the Frenchman for good measure, "You are going to need to wash that hand quickly. Who knows what diseases that bastard has. I am Arthur Kirkland." He then proceeded to give Matthew a proper handshake.

"Okay, okay! Like, enough with the talking. Arthur, Matthew is going to be staying with us for now and he needs a room. What do we have that's open for him." Felix cut in.

Arthur sighed and looked at Felix, "The first two floors are packed, but he third floor is pretty empty as of now. Take the chap to room 112B . That should suit him."

"Thanks, Artie!" Said Brit flinched at the nickname, "See you guys later!"

Once in his room, Felix left saying that he'd give him time to settle in, but would be back later to bring him dinner since everyone else had already eaten. Once he left Matthew looked around his new home. How did he even end up here? No one even asked if he wanted to stay! But seeing as he got food and a roof over his head, he would tolerate it for now.

He looked around his room. There was one queen-sized bed, a night stand, and a dusty couch. The wallpaper was a cheery yellow, and only peeled in a few sections. It wasn't bad at all compared to what he was used to. He threw his bag onto the floor, and flopped onto the bed. He was exhausted and needed sleep. In the morning, he would do his best to sort everything out.

Just as he was about to drift off, there was a loud yell and his door flew open with a bang. Matthew jumped and proceeded to fall off the bed. He heard the door slam shut again, and someone breathing heavily as if they had been running. Matthew sat up and peeked at the intruder. To say he was shock was an understatement.

He found himself looking into a pair of deep, _crimson_ eyes. Taking in the rest of the demon's appearance he realized it wasn't a demon at all, but an albino. His hair was pure white, like fresh snow in December. His skin was pale, even paler than Matthew himself, and seemed almost sickly in color. Stunned, Matthew could only stare as the albino stared back.

They were interrupted by pounding footsteps and a harsh yell, "GILBERT FUCKING BEILSCHMIDT!"

The albino cursed and practically leapt to the other side of the bed beside the Canadian. "Hey there! You know, it would be really awesome if you covered for me." _Ooh… another German_, Matthew noticed in the back of his consciousness. Not giving Matthew a chance to answer, the albino bodily lifted him from the ground and sat him on the bed as if he weighed nothing.

Letting out a manly squeak, Matthew flushed a deep red. The door then slammed open yet again. Standing in the doorway was a girl with light brown hair held out of her face by an orange flower hairclip. Her eyes were a sharp green, and were currently glaring at the blonde as if he was the cause of world hunger. In her hand… was a frying pan.

"Where is he." She demanded, "Where is that damn albino turd-cicle!"

Matthew's eyes flickered to were said bastard was now hiding behind him, quivering in fear. "U-uh, I-I don't know who you're talking about." He lied.

Green orbs scanned him again, as if trying to detect a lie. Suddenly, the glare was gone, and instead of a terrifying frying-pan wielding psychopath, there stood a kind looking—but still a bit crazy in her own way—teenager with a sweet smile.

"You must be the newby Felix was talking about! It's lovely to meet you! My name is Elizaveta Héderváry! And you are absolutely _adorable_!" She squealed the last part bouncing up and down in place.

Matthew flushed again, "T-thanks. I'm Matthew Williams."

Elizaveta's grin grew even wider and, if possible, even creepier. "That was PERFECT. So timid and shy and cute and GAHH! I need Kiku!" She waved goodbye to him, "Nice to meet you Mattie!" And with that last burst of excitement she was gone.

Matthew just stared at the door wondering what just happened. He was snapped out of his astonished state when a high, nasally laugh broke the silence.

"Sorry 'bout that. I forgot how scary that psycho is, especially when you first meet her. Kesesese~" Gilbert jumped onto the bed beside the blonde. "So, _Matthew Williams_. Nice name. Not as awesome as Gilbert though."

He puffed out his chest a bit, "You haven't been properly introduced to the awesome me yet!" Gilbert blurted and grabbed the Canadian's hand. "The name is Gilbert Beilschmidt. I know, it's an awesome name. It is a mouthful though, so you can call me Awesome or Mr. Awesome if, for some reason, we need to be sophisticated."

"Egotistical much," Matthew said getting annoyed, "I'll just call you Gilbert, if that's alright."

"Oh ho ho! So he _does _have a pair! Or at least one ball… Good, because being a complete pushover is unawesome."

The blonde blushed again, the confidence he gained momentarily drained away completely. "S-sorry."

"Don't be. Being sorry is for pansies." He said running a hand through his hair. "Well, unfortunately for you, I have to go. Elizaveta will find me eventually, so I might as well get you out of the crossfire." Gilbert hopped up and opened the door. "Bye-bye Birdie!" He 'Kesese'd' again and left, closing the door behind him.

Alone once more, Matthew rubbed his eyes and sighed. He crawled back into bed and fell asleep.

**Terrible ending was terrible.**

**Seriously I feel like I screwed this up. Felix, Elizaveta, and Gilbert are three of my favorite characters. I thought I knew them better, but apparently not. Hopefully it's not too suckish.**

**As I was editing this, I realized that the ending was kinda 'PruCan'ish. I actually didn't mean for that to happen, seeing as I'm more of a PruLiet and NedCan shipper myself.**

**I guess Prussia just makes everything sexual.**

**The next chapter will just be Mattie being introduced to everyone, and info of the Hideaway. **

**Don't forget to review and all that shnazz please **

**Anyways I started this at 10 and now it is 3:30. **

**FIVE HOURS OF CONTINUOUS TYPING.**

**I'm going to sleep now.**

**Beat out Bitchachos~**


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